


Find a Cause

by fatalchild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:38:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatalchild/pseuds/fatalchild
Summary: Piety is great and all, but when your God is living and breathing and looking you right in the eye, things get a little more complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

A lot of people talk about religious experiences, but I’ve actually seen the face of God. I’ve touched his hands. I crawled straight out of the fire and dived head first into the cause. And I don’t regret any of it--not even now. The human I used to be was shitty and forgettable, like most of them are, but going to Hell let her become something new. The upstairs god might not have wanted me, but there was someone else who did.

Azazel always had the best stories. I don’t remember how I came to be with him, just that I was. He made sure I was well-connected, made sure I understood that our mission was the most important thing. He got glassy-eyed sometimes when he talked about it, believe it or not. Lilith too. Even Alastair got weird when the subject came up. We were resolute, though, all of us, and we all had our part to play. But when the time came, they were all gone, and there was just me. So, I went to find him on my own.

The convent was empty. Lilith and Ruby were both dead on the floor, and the place was wrecked. He wasn’t there. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t that. Maybe I thought he’d seek us out, come sit on a throne in Hell or some bullshit. There was a rumor that he came to Hell looking for some of his favorites and, after finding them all dead, got mad and left, but it was just a rumor. Hell has a lot of rumors, and they led me all of nowhere. Still, I’d made a promise, and I was going to see it through. It took quite a while. I split my time between chasing storms and tracking the Winchesters. The storms seemed to follow Lucifer, and he seemed to follow the boys. I had pinned Sam and Dean down at some crappy motel and planned to hold them there, give them over like a gift, but things didn’t turn out that way. They got away, and I was left chasing my tail for the next couple of weeks.

In the end, Lucifer found me. I was ready to call it quits when I heard about a freak cold front moving through North Dakota and decided it was worth following my last lead. I ended up in some backwater crap town where I found absolutely nothing. Well, except a little mom and pop liquor store that still ran credit cards by paper. Less hassle that way, no attention in case the boss man did end up being around. I was carrying my bottle of top-shelf consolation out when I felt the shift. I’ve never climbed a mountain, but I’ve heard people talk about it. They say you go up high enough and the air gets thin and cold and hard to breathe. I felt my breath catch in my throat and my eyes flick black as I turned around.

And there he was. More perfect than I had even dreamed.

He walked towards me, head high and shoulders squared, managing to look both menacing and amused at the same time. I lifted my hands, still awkwardly clutching a bottle of booze, in what I hoped was a universal enough sign for surrender that even ancient archangels understood it. Lucifer tilted his head to the side and arched his eyebrows. I memorized his expression in case it was the last thing I ever saw. I wouldn’t have minded.

“It takes a lot of gall to hunt your maker,” he said. “Gall or stupidity. Both in equal parts, perhaps. I can’t imagine what you’re hoping to accomplish.”

“Hunting you?” I asked, trying not to sound too indignant. “I wouldn’t do that. Ever.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“I’m Meg,” I said then. “Azazel’s daughter.”

“Azazel? My Azazel?” Lucifer’s entire demeanor changed. He seemed to relax, at least marginally, and the suspicion left his gaze. He studied me carefully for several minutes before deciding, as far as I could tell, that I was telling the truth. “I’m told he didn’t survive.”

“Dean Winchester killed him,” I said.

“You know the Winchesters?”

“We’ve got quite the history.”

“Interesting... Meg, was it?”

I nodded.

“Meg, I think I’d rather like to hear some of your stories. You can meet me here in three days.” He slid a card into my hand, and I had to work to keep my fingers still.

“Sure. I’ll bring the drinks,” I said, giving a little wave with my paper-bagged bottle.

He smiled at me in a way that didn’t look happy at all, and by the time I looked up from a quick glance of whatever he had handed me, he was gone. The thing in my hand was a busted up key card from some hotel in Vermont.

I still have it.

***

I bought a bottle of Crown Royal Black at full price from a much nicer liquor store. I had said I would bring the drinks, and somehow, stealing the booze I was about to offer my God felt dirty even to me. Don’t ask me how I got the money. It’s not the point of the story.

I showed up at the hotel exactly three days after our first meeting. The place was deserted. It wasn’t falling apart or anything. It was just empty. The deterioration went no further than a light coating of dust and some chipped, peeling paint. Still, I didn’t bother trying the elevator. I went up the stairs on foot, listening to my heels clicking up each step echo around me. Nice hotels always have crappy stairwells. Rich people hate walking.

Of course, Lucifer was on the top floor. Even a demon’s feet can start to ache after so many flights of stairs, but I couldn’t complain. My entire life had led up to the top of these stairs, and a little foot pain would be the least of my sacrifices to get there. Even with all the others, I stood outside the door for almost five minutes before I could knock.

He looked different in the light. His skin was fairer than it had seemed in the alley, and what I had thought might have been sandy hair was distinctly blond. Whatever anger I had provoked by following him was gone now, and he seemed calm, poised. He held the door open and then shut it behind me all without saying a word. The room didn’t look lived in, I noted. The bed was perfectly made, and not even the complimentary water glasses had been touched. Of course, I get that angels and demons don’t need all that crap, but why take over the executive suite if you’re not even going to lounge on the California king? I didn’t ask him that. Instead, I said, “Nice place,” and it sounded just as lame then as it does right now. I held the little felt bag out to him, so much classier than paper. “I brought the drinks.”

“I don’t remember demons needing to drink,” Lucifer said. He seemed more interested in the texture of the bag than the bottle.

“Nobody needs to drink,” I told him. “Well, I guess some people do. Shitty lives and all, right?” I took the glasses on the counter and gave them a quick wipe with a towel. “Guess the ice machines are down.”

I was trying to act casual, but I must have made myself look like a fool. Fortunately, Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. He had discovered that the gift was actually inside the bag and was now examining the bottle with a fair deal of scrutiny.

“It needs ice?” he asked.

“No, but it’s better that way. Not like it’s bad either way.”

I poured two glasses and hoped that liquor would be strong enough to calm my nerves and keep me from further humiliation. As I was putting the top on the bottle, Lucifer reached for my drink. He ran one finger around the outer rim of the glass, barely touching it at all, and little crystals of ice began to cluster and expand. He repeated the treatment on his drink as he picked it up to examine it. He wrinkled his nose up at the strong smell, but curiosity won him over.

“Bottoms up,” I said, and Lucifer took it literally, tilting his glass up and downing all the liquor at once. He didn’t choke, but I could tell it was his first drink from the way he shivered.

“That’s interesting,” he said, more to himself than me.

So, I poured him another drink. He asked me about the Winchesters, and I told him the long and frequently boring story. I didn’t hold anything back. I even told him about my colossal fuck up and how I ended up exorcised back to Hell by a couple of denim-wearing clowns. He smiled when I said that, just for a second. The truth was I didn’t realize how important Sam and Dean were to the whole thing. Azazel had a lot of special kids, and it wasn’t like making more was strictly out of the question. I would never have possessed Sam or anything if I knew it was risking the plan, and I told Lucifer as much. Suddenly, he seemed more engaged, or at least different engaged. That was when he told me about the vessels. He explained it all, angels and bloodlines and destiny. Nick wasn’t a perfect fit, he said, but Sam Winchester was.

“You can help me find him,” Lucifer said. “If you’re interested.”

“I’m interested,” I said.

“Somehow I knew you would be.”

And that’s how it happened. I don’t know why he picked me, except for the fact that I went looking for him. Maybe Azazel’s name got me in the door, but I think he would have wanted that. This was what he had trained me for, after all. I took Lucifer’s contact information and instructions and left him alone at the hotel. I didn't even think about that at the time. I figured something like him wouldn’t want to spend all his time around a bunch of demons, whether he made us or not. Not entirely inaccurate, just something I didn’t understand. But back then, there were a lot of things I didn't understand--at least a lot more than there are now.


	2. Chapter 2

At first, none of us thought about Heaven. Freeing Lucifer wasn’t a means; it was the end, the only end that mattered. We expected that we would inherit something for our service, sure, but the stories were varied and vague. When the Cage opened, all the other locks on Hell were broken. That gate the boys broke open a few years before? Nothing compared to what Lucifer did on his way out. We were free too, you see. We could walk the earth, and we could dream. For most of us, that was enough.

Lucifer kept his plans to himself. Winchesters are as slippery as you can imagine, so I spent several weeks with no contact because I had nothing to tell him. There were angels everywhere, but he already knew that. He kept up with all the sightings, wanted to know what the “little ones” were up to. That’s how he said it too. It was the first time I noticed that he looked tired.

Word had reached us that the Winchesters were having one of their marital tiffs, and while Lucifer tried to talk sense to Sam, I stayed on Dean because, well, obviously. I ended up with little more than a stack of angelic omens that I took to Lucifer.

“All this effort, and I haven’t even done anything yet,” he said. “They’re practically making my decisions for me.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They think I want to raise a demon army and lay siege to Heaven, after I annihilate the planet, of course.” He scowled and threw the paper he was looking at down on the table.

“You don’t want Heaven?”

“Not if it means killing my entire family in cold blood. What would be the point? I’m not interested in celestial real estate values.”

I hadn’t thought about it before, what the other angels meant to him, and I can’t say I gave it any real thought then. What I did know was that he was hurting. Personally, I didn’t think they were worth the grief, but either way, it felt wrong. Everything we had done had been to keep him from suffering, but here he was with his head in his hands and his shoulders in what I had already learned from a handful of interactions was an uncharacteristic slump. I sat down beside him. I’d never dared do that before.

“Have any luck with Sam?” I asked.

Lucifer shook his head. “He, unsurprisingly, thinks I’m a monster. He won’t even listen to what I have to say.”

“His loss.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “He’s delaying the inevitable. Sam will say yes, and Michael will respond when he does. I suppose we’ll have to prepare for that.”

“Michael?”

“Your theology isn’t that poor, is it? My dear older brother who happens to want me dead.”

“Sounds charming,” I said.

“He used to be.” Lucifer rested his chin against his hand, stroking the stubble along his jaw idly. “I never imagined he would actually be willing to kill me.”

I’m sorry sounded stupid even in my own head, so I didn’t say anything at all for a while. I made a quick pass around the room, but it was pretty bare. I wish I’d brought something to drink again, more for his sake than mine. There wasn’t a sample left in the old mini bar, not even a soft drink in the fridge. I fished around in my jacket and held out an embarrassingly crumpled pack of menthols.

“You want a cigarette?”

“What’s that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It’s a plant or something. You smoke it.”

I sat next to him again, closer than I had the first time. I held a cigarette out to him and then placed it in his lips when he didn’t seem to know what I was getting at. I flicked my lighter. “Breathe in.”

It was quiet enough that I could hear the crackle of the paper burning as he inhaled. His eyebrows knotted together and dropped in an expression that was almost disarming. He looked confused, like maybe he hadn’t decided whether or not he liked it.

“What does it do?” he asked, and his hand touched mine when he took the cigarette between his fingers.

“You’ve got to hold it in a little,” I said. “Just give it a minute.”

“It tastes terrible.”

“We’ll get you something nicer.” I lit a second one and took a couple of hits off it myself. I gave him the rest of that one too, figuring that an archangel must have crazy tolerance to shitty human-level substances. He must have felt something, though, because he took the second cigarette with much more interest than the first.

“I have to admit none of this is what I expected,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry everything sucks.” I sat there for a solid minute watching him smoke while my heart bounced around in my stomach. He would hold it away from his face between hits, examining it with this curious little head tilt that I’ve since learned is apparently just some thing angels do. The cute ones anyway. From there, he moved to stretching his neck to one side and rolling it around in a circle, which was less cute only because he looked so uncomfortable. “I can order you up a masseuse,” I offered.

“What?”

“You know, someone to come in and rub your shoulders… or whatever else you want rubbed.”

I wasn’t trying to make an innuendo, but I heard the way it sounded. Luckily, Lucifer didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Is that something you order?” he asked.

“Unless you want me to do it.”

“I’ve never had it done. I don’t know who would do it.”

I had just blurted it out expecting him to laugh at me, and I almost regretted it for no other reason than the fear of disappointing him. He’d been disappointed enough. The whole damn world had been a let down, and as much as I wanted to fix it for him, the only thing I could do was give him a cigarette and play massage therapist.

I tried to act calm, but my hands were shaking. He must have felt it and had the courtesy not to say anything, the same way I noticed that his muscles were a wall of knots and didn’t bother him to ask why. I started near his neck with light touches. He tensed up even more at first like maybe he didn’t trust me, but after a couple of minutes, he turned so I could sit behind him and leaned sideways against the back of the couch. He was very quiet, even after he put the cigarette out, so I stayed quiet too, for as long as I could.

“Not hurting you, am I?” I asked.

He chuckled. “No. It’s nice.”

I instantly fantasized a world where everything was perfect and there was no war and nothing pressing for me to do besides rub God’s shoulders. But that wasn’t the world we lived in. The world we lived in was trying to kill him, and I listened to him tell me all his plans to avoid it, still rubbing the tension out of his back long after my hands began to ache.

***

I saw him more regularly after that night. I bought a bottle of Spirytus and a pack of fancy cigarettes they imported from India and kept them ready for the next time he seemed especially bummed. Mostly, he was busy. He’d gathered up a network of loyal demons, but nobody got the face time I did. Nobody else sat in his room with him and gave him shoulder rubs.

I came to see him one night, and he didn’t meet me at the door like he usually did. He always knew when I was nearby. He could sense me. I had brought him a frozen daiquiri. I wasn’t strictly supposed to leave the restaurant with it, but demon, so what were they going to do? I even left the tiny umbrella in it because I thought it might make him smile. Lucifer had seemed particularly stressed out the last time I had seen him, and now he wasn’t at the door. I thought maybe he had gone elsewhere. He had a tendency to jump from place to place with no warning, but for the past month or so, he’d made a point to always tell me where he was.

When I knocked and got nothing, I thought maybe we had been wrong about the plan. Lucifer had said that the prophecy demanded they fight one on one in their true vessels, but Michael could have realized his odds weren’t so good as he thought, gone rogue, and come to slaughter Lucifer while he was unexpectedly flipping through a book or some crap. I knocked again and then flung the door open. My stomach was twisted up, and I could feel my mouth watering in a disgusting, foreign way.

There was a sink running down the hall. I called to him as I crept closer, which was probably stupid, but he didn’t answer anyway. I rested my palm flat against the door and tapped lightly. The faucet creaked on the other side of the door. The drain gurgled. I heard a sigh. The doorknob turned, and I took a step back.

I was so relieved to see him that I didn’t register anything other than the fact that he was alive at first. He looked at me like he was waiting for some explanation as to why I had let myself into his room, and the sugary drink I was still holding like an idiot wasn’t going to cut it. For my part, I kind of wanted to know why he was soaking wet and dripping down the front of his clothes, but I didn’t have the right to ask. Then I saw it, right on the side of his neck. It was red with the skin peeling around it, like some sort of partially healed burn. There was another red streak over his brow, but the skin hadn’t blistered yet.

“What happened?” I asked.

Lucifer wouldn’t even look at me. “I thought I’d have more time,” he said. “It was a good fit. I had gotten comfortable.”

“Your vessel is giving out?” I stepped past him and took a hand towel from the rack, dousing it in cold water and wringing it out before returning to wrap it around his neck. I handed him the drink, and he looked at me like I was some sort of mythical creature before following me to sit down.

“Sam will say yes to me,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time.”

He sounded so confident and calm even though he had to be suffering. I wished I’d brought him something stronger than a daiquiri. I hadn’t expected things to get so heavy. Another burn was beginning to show on the back of his hand. I didn’t see it until we had sat down. I stretched my fingertips towards the glass and guided the icy condensation down to his skin. The other times I had touched him had almost all been through his clothes.

“There has to be something we can do,” I said.

Lucifer watched my hand, watched the way I touched him. He still hadn’t met my eyes, but that gave me a chance to study his expression. He looked sad and conflicted. I would have said ashamed, but that didn’t make any sense. His hand twitched under mine.

“There is.”


	3. Chapter 3

The only one who ever knew the whole plan was Lilith, and she kept her secrets sealed up tight. Everybody knew that Ruby was screwing around with Sam Winchester, but we didn’t know why. We certainly didn't know that she was pouring demon blood down his throat, not that most of us would have cared. Still, some warning might have been nice. You can imagine my surprise when Lucifer told me that demon blood was the only thing that could stall the decay of his vessel. I sat there with this dumb, blank stare on my face.

“Believe me,” he said, “I’m as disgusted as you are, probably more, but—”

“I’m not,” I said quickly.

“What?”

“Disgusted. I’m not disgusted. Our blood is powerful.” I touched his hand again. “You made us powerful.”

“That’s hardly the point.” He set the drink down and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

I thought it would be me. I mean, I was there and everything, and it takes a lot to kill a demon. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and thrown out of windows more times than I care to count. A little bloodletting wasn't going to be the end of me.

“Do you want a cup?”

Lucifer stared at the inside of my wrist like he could see the power in my veins. “It would be more than a cup,” he said.

“A pint? A quart?”

“For now, yes, but not from you. So far I have used traitors, people trying to kill me, but even that is bound to get… messy.”

I knew what he was saying, or I thought I did. Demons come from humans, so we all start off as crap and evolve to be significantly less crap. Some people stay shit, though, and while I hadn’t heard the rumors yet, I could imagine the sort of person who would twist the truth for something petty.

“Plenty of demons deserve to die,” I said, “but they don’t have to. We can easily survive blood loss.”

“That leaves a trail,” Lucifer remarked dryly.

“Only if they see you.”

“You’re plenty affiliated with me. It won’t be a hard connection to make.”

“For people who know, but Ruby took that secret to the grave,” I told him.

He made a low noise in the back of his throat and went back to sipping the daiquiri I had brought him. I imagined the glass full of blood, even my blood, and I felt nothing different for him. I would have bled anyone in Hell dry to keep one of those awful burns from hurting him for one second. You can’t imagine what that place is like. You can’t imagine what he was carrying. Lucifer had hurt enough.

“You’ll be discreet?” he asked, after a long silence.

“Top secret,” I assured him.

“You’re a good girl, Meg.”

Simple words, but they made my smoky insides sing. I told Lucifer I would see him the next night and hurried out of there before I could make a fool of myself. Better he think me someone calm and in control, someone he could rely on. Someone more like him.

***

I didn’t actually have a plan. Like I said, there were plenty of people in Hell who deserved whatever they got. In a perfect world, the faithful would have lined up the pour their blood out to him. Probably put it in a fancy cup or something. Some of them would have, I know, but it was his secret, and I kept it for him.

Lucifer’s own method of using traitors seemed the smartest move. Why not cull the herd, leave the strongest, most devout demons to stand by him in what was to come? It’s not like I had to kill anyone to get enough blood. It’s not like demons are that hard to kill. It was just two birds with one stone, really. I had enemies, and I figured anyone stupid enough to attack me now that I was apparently publicly connected to Lucifer was no big loss to the ranks. I would have liked it to be Crowley, but it ended up just being some little twink he was screwing around with. The guy was sniffing around one of Azazel’s old hideouts, no doubt looking for artifacts, weapons, whatever he could get. Stealing from God is a no-no in every religion, I’m pretty sure.

I asked him what he was doing there. He deflected, gave some sort of bullshit excuse, then had the nerve to ask me what I was doing there. I made up something about a security spell in the area, said Lucifer had sent me to find out who breached the perimeter. The guy freaked, of course. He knew he was screwed and that Lucifer had every right to kill him for whatever he was trying to pull. But it wouldn’t come to that. I had years more experience than he did, and I was fighting for something more important. He missed when he lunged, and I kicked his legs out from under him and made a run for it as if I were afraid. Stupid followed. Azazel had kept most of the important things underground, so I led the guy up to the roof. I pulled a knife from my boot and lured him close. He wasn’t a very good fighter. I kicked him over the edge the second he dropped his guard. His body lurched once before he gave out, and he lay sprawled in the gravel below, bleeding inside and out. Chances were he would abandon the meatsuit the second he woke up, pain or embarrassment one, and he had enough injuries from the fight and the fall that he wouldn’t notice anything. I drained over a quart of blood from him and left him to think he’d gotten off with a warning. He’d disappear soon.

Lucifer didn’t ask me any questions when I got back. I put the jug up on the table, and he stared at it quietly from across the room for a minute. It looked like he glared at it, like the container had somehow offended him or pissed him off. I kept waiting for him to say that I had screwed up, someone had seen me taking the blood and pieced things together. Nothing like that, though. He came over slowly, hesitating more than once in his steps, and his eyes stayed on the jug the whole time.

“That’s more than a pint,” he said.

“It’s about a quart and a half.”

“Good,” he said. “That’s good.” He sat down and laid both his arms up on the table, palms down. “You should go.”

I was stunned. He’d never sent me away before, not like this. Usually, he left, sometimes without even announcing it. I’d gotten used to it, figured it was an angel thing. Sometimes he sent me to do things, various missions, but he had never just wanted me gone before.

“Leave me,” he said then, and there was an edge to his voice that I hadn’t heard before. I didn’t disobey.

It was a regular thing after that, me bringing him demon blood. It didn’t stop the burning, though. Lucifer said it was helping, said it was keeping the body intact and functional. He didn’t mention the. pain, and I didn’t stick around to ask so much. Sometimes I didn’t even see him when I made the drop. That first time had been too awkward for both of us. But I always came back. I figured out how long it normally took him after a couple of close calls where I came in and heard him washing his mouth out. I’d bring him ice and, after that night, some sort of drink with enough flavor to cover up the other taste. I knew he had heard me, but he didn’t seem to mind. He never brought it up, but he would come sit beside me. Sometimes he would let me put an ice pack on one of the fresher burns, and we would just sit in silence until the ice was melted and Lucifer went to get a towel.

“I need a book,” he said to me one night as he was dabbing water off his neck.

“What kind of book?”

“History. The American Civil War is probably our best bet.”

“For what?” I asked him.

“These rituals are tricky, and everything must converge perfectly.” Lucifer looked at me and said something I hadn’t expected. “I need you to make sure we’re found.”


	4. Chapter 4

I pulled a lot of strings to get everyone lined up at Carthage. I knew Crowley had the Colt, and Lucifer had already told me the Winchesters’ plan to use it on him wouldn’t work. They thought they were playing us, but Lucifer is always at least one step ahead of everyone else, even if the direction he’s walking doesn’t always seem to make sense.

I brought him the blood the night before then walked down to the nearest gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes. I had smoked four of them by the time I got back. Lucifer was sitting on the couch looking over a detailed map of the town spread out on the coffee table, and he didn’t look up when I handed over the fancy bottle of orange juice without any pulp that I’d bought for him. I sat across from him, lit another cigarette, and waited for him to look at me.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The Winchesters have an angel with them,” I said.

Lucifer stared at me like I had spoken another language. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. He’ll be with them tomorrow, him and two other hunters at last count.”

He sat back, tapping his finger over his lips thoughtfully. “They’re inconsequential, but we’ll have to modify our plans.”

“Should we worry?”

“No. If he’s with the Winchesters, that means he’s fallen and they’re taking advantage of his situation. He won’t pose a threat.”

And he wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t screwed it up.

***

Let me clear a couple of things up first. I knew where the ragtag bunch of heroes were the whole time, and if I’d wanted any of them dead, I could have made them dog chow while they were standing around gabbing. I wasn’t there to fight. Lucifer had told me that I should bring them peacefully. Damaging the vessels wasn’t really a viable option. In spite of this, I know Dean Winchester. Not a lot of honor there. The hellhounds were for my protection, and it’s a good thing, because Dean shot at us first. And even after that, I played nice. I left them sitting in the hardware store when I could have bust in and had my dogs chew up anything Lucifer didn’t need, slowly and painfully.

Lucifer had already found his angel by then. That had been part of his plan. He said we needed to split them up and make sure “the little one” didn’t become collateral damage. I was still surprised by the way he sometimes referred to other angels, you know, considering they all wanted to kill us, but a lot of things about Lucifer weren’t what I expected. They were better.

I gave him as much privacy as I could and hoped that Lucifer wasn’t the only angel with sense. He sent me away several times, gave me tasks that were probably just his way of buying time. It all took several hours, enough time for him to be cutting it close with the ritual deadline. I judged by the standing ring of fire that Lucifer hadn’t gotten what he came for, but there was something to the intensity of all that staring. All the same, angels and humans had been strictly divided like Lucifer wanted, and everything else was in place. Dean and Sam were both there,and there was no way Lucifer couldn’t squeeze a yes out of his vessel. So, I was elated as I waltzed in there, even watching the angelic staring competition. I told Lucifer that the Winchesters were cornered, but he told me to leave them.

“Trust me, child,” he said. “Everything happens for a reason.”

He reached for me. He cupped my face. For every incidental contact and all the times I had touched him, he had never touched me, not like this. His hands were cool, and I was grateful for it because I could feel my face burning. He brushed his thumbs over my cheeks and smiled, warm and genuine and so different than I had ever seen him look. My heart rose up in my throat, and my head swam.

Of course, I’d like to think that’s why I fucked up. I could blame it on divine proximity or religious ecstasy. I was giddy. I wasn’t sure whether or not Lucifer planned to march on Heaven, but I knew that wherever he was taking us would be Heaven. Heaven was being by Lucifer’s side, and I was so consumed with it that I rose to the bait about Crowley. I defended Lucifer, but then I gloated. Clever angel knocked me close then flipped me over to use as a bridge across the fire. It was unnatural fire. My body didn’t even put it out. It just kept smoldering beneath me. I felt my clothes melting into my skin as it started to blister, and I screamed. If this stuff could kill an angel, I wondered, why couldn’t it kill me? I kicked furiously to get away from the flames and tried to crawl far enough to find something to pull myself upright.

I was on my knees when I heard the gunshot. I screamed and lunged for the door, but Lucifer had told me that I was under no circumstances to come to the ritual site, and I couldn’t disobey him. I slumped there and started to cry. I believed him when he said the gun couldn’t kill him, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just because it couldn’t kill him didn’t mean it couldn’t hurt him. The thought of him lying there suffering in the dirt was almost more than I could handle. If he was dead, I wanted to be dead too.

I don’t know how long I sat there, but it was long enough for my wounds to start leaking down my side, leaving me a disgusting, shivering mess. I heard footsteps and braced myself. If it was the Winchesters coming to finish me off, I’d go down fighting. I would get some measure of revenge for Lucifer, and I wouldn’t let them see me cry. I clenched my jaw.

Lucifer came around the corner, every trace of that special smile gone. His mouth was twisted in a scowl, and his eyes were dark and dangerous. He was alive and whole and had never been more beautiful. My legs gave out in their struggle to lift me up, and I landed right back on my ass. Even that was less embarrassing than how foolish I felt for doubting him. I couldn’t meet his eyes. That glower radiated disappointment, and it was even worse remembering the way he had smiled just a few hours before.

I didn’t need to explain. He had figured everything out within the first five seconds of coming in the room. I mumbled my apologies and managed to follow him out. I was in more pain than I expected from just a burn, but that fire can burn angels. It hurt so bad my vision blurred a couple of times, and Lucifer wouldn’t even speak to me. That felt worse. He must have carried me in the end. I don’t remember getting out of Carthage. I dreamed of his hands on my face and of his smile and woke up in one of the old hideouts, mostly healed but alone. It was more than I deserved, but I had no idea where Lucifer even was now.

Looking back, I realize he was giving me the option. He didn’t take me with him, but he didn’t dismiss me either. Technically, I hadn’t been relieved of my duties, and I held onto that, trying to imagine that he would need me. Carthage had proven that numerous demons were willing to lay down their lives for him. A little bit of blood wouldn’t be too much to ask. Chances were he didn’t need me at all, but he had worked his way up to about a half a gallon at a time, and with his vessel still straining, he was going to need more than that. Besides, I knew all his particulars. I knew to use glass containers and how long to leave him alone afterward and to bring back something clean for him to drink and not talk about it at all. Maybe Lucifer doesn’t need all that, I thought, but he should have it anyway. He should have everything.

He already had me, even before the rest, whatever good that was to him.


End file.
